Maybe I ain’t used to maybes

I am not hiding in my orange room anymore. I used to listen to Tori Amos until my ears bled, until my nose dried and my eyes started to sore from all the staring in the same direction – the window the train station the fucking balcony the floor the cigarettes the sound the building…

In dreams

This looks like a story but it’s not. Not the story you’d like to read, that’s for sure. I was wearing some black flats on my way to the park and sweating like a fashion demon. The temperature was too high for my layering frenzy, the socks were so tight and the hat was begging…

Nobody’s ever alone in this country

My friends are on the road again and it feels like it’s their last trip. They’re crossing borders and forever stealing cars. They drink cheap bear and act angelically, these modern saints. They listen to tall black skinny musicians blowing and tapping their feet, oh, the madness of jazzheads all over America. They want to…

Queen of sequined hearts

Life continues, and some mornings, weary of the noise, discouraged by the prospect of the interminable work to keep after, sickened also by the madness of the world that leaps at you from the newspaper, finally convinced that I will not be equal to it and that I will disappoint everyone—all I want to do…